


Allergic To Stardust

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Incandescent Hearts [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Allergens, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bickering, Condescending Spock, Contagens, Cranky McCoy, Cuddling, Defensive Spock, Developing Relationship, Emotional Spock, Exotic Plants, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Golden Shower (But Not The Kind You're Thinking), Incandescent Hearts (Star Trek Series), Jim Kirk Knew All Along, Jim Kirk Knew Before They Did, Learning To Be Friends Then Suddenly More, M/M, McCoy And Spock Have To Wash Each Other, Meant To Be, One Shot, Pining Spock, Protective Spock, Quarantined Together, Realization, Romantic Friendship, Secret love, Slow Build, Snarky McCoy, Spock Learning To Trust, Spock and Idioms, Spooning, Trumpeting Plants, idioms, protective McCoy, shower scene, spones - Freeform, sweet fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: McCoy and Spock have been exposed to an unknown allergen and until it is learned how they are affected, they have been put in isolation.  Together.  McCoy is not handling it well.  Spock isn’t really coming out and giving his opinion.  But if looks could kill, McCoy should fall down dead at Spock‘s feet so the Vulcan could trod on him as he stalked away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spock and McCoy are entertaining each other, and us, again, as only they can do.

Just look at him, acting like he’s the only one on the whole damn ship who has any sense, when it’s plain as the moons of Jupiter coming up that there’s over four hundred more of us here on the Enterprise. Why does he believe that he was appointed by some special overlord to gaze down on us as if we’re just so many little space ants crawling around for his amusement? What gives him the gall to think that he’s so high and mighty?

Why did Jim feel a special need to include HIM on this crew? I don’t know what the attraction was that made Jim fall under Spock’s spell. Surely, it wasn’t because the wiry little bastard was half Vulcan and exotic as hell. If I know Jim, he’d say, hell, I don’t know, Bones. He just intrigues the hell out of me, and he’s the best damn little scrapper I know. He’d put Romulans to shame, Bones.

But Jim wouldn’t keep Spock around like he was some sort of trained monkey. That wouldn’t be like Jim, at all. Jim has more reasons than that.

Yeah, I know Spock is talented. He’s smart and intellectual and is the same as a computer with legs. Yeah, I know he’s tenacious as hell. He fights like a bulldog after a colony of fleas and doesn’t have the sense to know when to quit. Yeah, I know he’s loyal and trustworthy. All sterling qualities, for sure. But, he’s also condescending and belligerent and has a superiority complex that would make the most narcissistic person in the universe blush.

But he’s ours. God love him, he’s ours. And we’re stuck with him. Well, to put that down to the level where it really pisses me off, I’M stuck with him. Especially now. And I’m not exactly doing a happy dance because of that fact.

Well, it seems that I’m in isolation. With him. Together. Alone. Monitoring each other. Hoping nothing drastic happens, and all the while wishing something would show up so we could move on from this stalemate.

I can’t complain too much. I’m kind of the reason why we’re in this predicament. We were with a landing party on this unexplored planet, see? And Spock and I happened to be together when I spotted this pretty flower. It looked like a golden star. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in the plant world. I was mesmerized, as much as I would be if I had spotted this beautiful, accomplished, self-assured young woman walking by. As a man of science and especially since I’ve been stung by pretty women so much, I should have realized that pretty generally doesn’t equate to good, reliable, and pure. I should have remembered that pretty is nature’s way of luring unsuspecting victims into killing range. All that I know, though, was that I was just enthralled by all of the beauty I was seeing before me and forgot that I should be cautious. 

Anyway, I reached toward that pretty golden star flower about the same time that Spock reached out to stop me. He said my name in warning a split second before we were both showered with a golden pollen. The plant must’ve thought that I was something to be fertilized, I guess. Either that, or it was using a defense tactic. Anyway, after that plant got finished with us, Spock and I looked like a hive of bees had just blessed us with nectar to last a lifetime. We were as good as spray painted. We could have tucked our elbows against our sides and been used as living Oscars at the next Academy Awards ceremony. 

Spock and I stood there, stunned, looking down at our golden selves and then at each other. If a floodlight would’ve hit us about that time, we would’ve blinded airplane pilots in the sky. If this planet had airplanes and pilots to fly them, that is.

Then that damn plant threw back its head and trumpeted like a charging elephant. It acted like it had either finished its part of the reprodution cycle or defended its home from invaders. I don‘t know which. But it was proud of what it had done and wanted everything in hearing range to make note of the fact. I didn’t know that plants had vocal cords, but that bastard sure did. If all of the other plants around could make such sounds, I expect it was a pretty noisy place, especially when they got into an argument.

Spock and I were standing there with our arms held out and surveying the damage to ourselves. I worried that we could breathe, but apparently it didn’t affect our lungs that way. There was also the danger that our skin cells would be clogged, and I thought of that gilded girl at the introduction to the movie ‘Goldfinger‘ while the credits are being shown. I also remembered her sad fate from cell strangulation. But thankfully that didn’t seem to be an immediate problem for Spock and me. Just all of this glittery, golden substance that changed the both of us into walking, breathing, golden statutes.

About that time Jim Kirk came crashing through the underbrush calling our names. “Spock! Bones! Where are you?!“ he yelled. "Was that an elephant I just heard?!"

Spock and I answered that we were here, and then Jim was suddenly with us. He stopped dead still and stared hard at us. He acted as if he had stopped breathing, too, at what he was seeing. I don't blame him. I would have, too, if I'd seen the appearance of my friends so changed.

I watched all sorts of comments and questions run through Kirk’s mind. I’m sure he wanted to be flippant, but he didn’t know how serious the situation was for us. Finally, he settled on, “Are you alright? Are you suffering any ill effects?”

Spock and I answered no, but thought that we should shower as quickly as possible. 

“What got sprayed on you two guys, anyway?” Kirk asked, with a slight grin that had a lot of relief mixed in it, too. “Elephant piss?“ 

We both glared at him like we didn‘t think much of his humor. Then we pointed at the now innocent looking flower and explained what had happened. The flower looked contented and triumphant. Its work was done, whatever that had been, so it could rest easily now on its laurels. Fine for it, but Spock and I looked like something left over from a drunken weekend frat party or a kindergarten art project gone awry.

Spock, of course, had already taken up his time-honored, long suffering position of being in one helluva situation again from 'something else stupid that McCoy has pulled.' I wanted to ask him why the hell he had been tagging along with me, anyway, if I was so dangerous to be around. But I realized that it might have been much worse for me if he hadn’t been with me. Maybe I did need a keeper, after all, just as he‘s always said I do.

Jim tried some humor just to lighten up the situation, but he wasn’t the one standing there like an upright ingot of gold. He said that we might be allergic to stardust. The star flower had sprayed its dust on us. Ha Ha! Get it?! Star! Dust! Stardust! He laughed at his own joke. It was a good idea he did. Spock and I weren’t in the mood for humor at the moment. I couldn't blame Jim, though. If it had been someone else reflecting light like a thousand-watt lamp and I'd come up with all sorts of one-liners, I would've thought that I was damn witty, also.

But Kirk wouldn't leave it alone. He wondered aloud if that was a male flower and that it had pollinated us. One of my theories, too, of course. Then he went and ruined it by getting a slapdash grin on his face and wondering, again aloud, if that meant that Spock and I were pregnant? Now, that theory he could've kept to himself, but, oh, no, not Kirk! He just had to share that one with us! As pretty as that star flower was, I didn't intend to carry its offspring. And I sure as hell didn't entertain any ideas of giving birth to its offspring! The last time I'd checked, there wasn't an orifice on my body large enough to produce living young. And, unless Spock was sporting something inside him that I didn't know about, he was incapable of giving birth, either. I didn't know that much about Vulcan physiology, but I had enough of a grasp of it to know that Spock could do a lot of things, but he couldn't do that!

Meanwhile, Jim Kirk was on a roll. He surmised that the plant wouldn't be so pleased with itself when nothing came of its efforts. How was the plant to know that Spock and I weren't sporting ovaries? "Unless, guys," Kirk looked at us quizzically. "You haven't added plant ovaries to your inventories that I don't know about. That plant had to be attracted to you for some reason."

Upon which, Spock had to provide the information that, stated simply, told Kirk that I had made a pass at the flower. In layman's terms, Spock noted, I had 'come on to it.' And the damn Vulcan delivered it in his best dry, condescending, computer nurtured voice. He was really lucky that I didn't have a lethal weapon in my hand. I would've put it to good use.

Anyway, in the light of the pregnancy discussion, Jim made the leap to the deduction that there was some question about how Spock and I had been affected by a golden shower. Therefore, Jim thought that it would be a good idea for us to isolate ourselves until we could learn how we might be effected by the spray. He said that we could monitor each other and keep each other company. I didn’t know about that last part. But my only solace about it was that Spock didn’t appreciate being put in isolation with me, either. I saw that set of his face and the flash of dark eyes before he could drop the mask down over them again.

Yeah, the Vulcan was pissed, and he was pissed at me. So, what else is new? The way my day was going, anything else mad at me was going to have to get in line behind the star plant and Spock. When I pick enemies, I sure as hell don't mess around. But those two might keep all but the really dedicated or mad away from me. See, there's a silver lining in every cloud. I just wish Spock wasn't there to spoil that ray of sunshine for me.

But I couldn’t be too critical of him. After all, I was the one responsible for his being here. And he did try to warn me, as if he might have been concerned about my welfare, or something. That warmed me somewhat for awhile, but I thought that he would have done the same thing for anyone whom he considered a teammate. I was therefore nothing special. And, on top of it, he now had to be harboring some sort of grudge against me. I know I would be if he was responsible for me being gilded like a lily and then quarantined.

So Spock and I transported back to the Enterprise. Silently, but together. Jim might’ve specified that we stay together. That we had to do. He couldn’t make us keep each other company, though. Nobody could’ve made us do that, not even James T. Kirk, mighty as he is.

But you should have seen Scotty’s face when the two of us materialized in the transport room on the Enterprise. I’m sure he’s gotten almost jaded after some of the things that have appeared before him in that chamber, but I believe that the two of us made something of an impression on him that day. I know that he generally doesn’t walk around with his mouth open that far or his eyes popped out like he‘s got some sort of thyroid condition. And for once he didn’t even say anything to us as we crossed the transport room and headed out the door. Me, I would have had to have asked something, but not him. Not a sound. I don’t know if he’s ever been able to string whole sentences together again, or not. Like I say, I'm in this damn quarantine with the Vulcan. My social calendar is severely limited. Scotty may be permanently mute for all I know.

Anyway, Spock and I had to shower in the decontamination chamber. We thought it would entail a simple scrubbing down, especially on exposed skin such as hands and heads. Upon disrobing, though, we discovered that the golden pollen had somehow penetrated our clothing. We were gilded everywhere. Including the bottoms of our feet and inside places I won’t mention because of delicacy’s sake. Being so thoroughly covered then, it was a good thing that the substance hadn’t sealed off our skin pores. Otherwise, we would have died almost immediately, and Jim would’ve found two gilded corpses and figured that elephant piss had killed us. He would’ve never suspected the beautiful flower blooming nearby.

A simple washing of ourselves proved that we couldn’t cleanse ourselves thoroughly. We had to resort to washing each other off, making sure all of the golden substance was completely gone from each others’ bodies. We had to get into all of those little cracks and crevasses that you can‘t reach yourself when bathing. I noticed, though, that Spock was being particularly gentle and fastidious with my cleansing, so I tried to do likewise for him. It resulted in a lot of time spent on rubbing and handling each other. But it was worth the effort. There wasn’t a speck of glitter left when we finally finished.

And some of that stuff was pretty hard to get off. I know my skin was getting buffed into a bright red, and Spock’s flesh was becoming this beautiful shade of dark green. But the hard rubbing and friction was causing some sensations in my nether regions that I hoped wouldn’t become embarrassing. Or noticeable.

It was the first time I’d taken a shower with a guy since high school sports. And I’d never washed a guy off before, or had someone sponging me off. Guys had sure grown up a lot since high school, that’s all I can say. But I should’ve noticed something like that before showering with Spock. After all, I am a doctor. I’ve seen my share of naked bodies. It kind of goes with the medical territory. I’ve studied advanced biology, I’ve exclaimed over the pictures, I’ve seen the carnival exhibit where guys are suffering from elephanitais, I’ve cut up male cadavers, for heaven’s sake! Not saying that Spock was suffering from elephanitais! Far from it! But, all the same, still a nice package. I’ve seen some pretty impressive stuff in my travels, but Spock-- Well, just let me say it this way: I was impressed. And it takes a lot to impress me. 

For instance, the beauty and pleasing proportions of his male organ and gently curving buttocks were extraordinary and could only be comparable to the young male models who apparently posed for the Greek and later the Renaissance sculptors. Such artistry! Such finesse! Such sensuality! The mastery of which is difficult to describe, but, oh, the model! The model is, is--

“Dr. McCoy, I do not know what is holding your attention so avidly, but I suggest you put it aside for the time being and concentrate on what you are doing. You do not want to make a mistake on those tests. Staring into near space will not help your efficiency and job performance, and it might adversely affect test results.”

Snide, little son of a-- 

Too bad Spock did not also have another feature of those Greek and Renaissance statues: made of stone so they would be unable to speak!

“Dr. McCoy, you are not concentrating on your work. May I remind you--“

I’m turning you off, Vulcan! I’ll do what I want, when I want, IF I want, and you just better like it, or else I will--

“Dr. McCoy? Are you hearing me? I said that--”

Deep sigh. 

McCoy turned to Spock whom he‘d conveniently had forgotten was standing right beside him. “I heard you, Mr. Spock. What’s got your drawers in a bind now?”

Spock glared.

“Stop looking at me as if I’m something that just crawled out from between your toes and am waving ‘Hi‘ up to you,“ McCoy quickly inserted and hoped that he had sidestepped in time a dissecting of that idiom about the binding drawers. Otherwise, they would get in a ‘discussion’ that would defy the length and delicacy of the most detailed brain surgery. In fact, the surgeons would be enjoying cups of sugar laced tea and cinnamon doughnuts long before the Vulcan was satisfied with McCoy‘s explanation, if ever.

Then McCoy quickly pressed on, because sometimes that was the only way to handle the Vulcan and his piss ant form of logic. Sometimes McCoy wondered if Spock’s arguments weren’t quickly made up to cover his own green ass and really didn’t have anything to do with logic, after all.

“What’s the problem with you, anyway?! If this test fails, Spock, I‘ll run another one. It‘s not like we‘ve got anything pressing to do, like there’s a polka party out there that we have to get to in a few minutes or finding a mountain that is begging to be climbed.”

“Doctor, we need to ascertain how we are going to be affected by the pollen of the star flower. Therefore, we need to conduct tests and be diligent about our behavior."

“So, we’re watching, but there‘s not much to see. I’ve been more entertained by watching a spider spin its web. Sorry if I can’t seem to get too excited about all of that, but I’m try not to go crazy shut up with you in here. It’s not like we can get out of here anytime soon, so give it a rest about the tests.” 

“That is not the tone nor the manner in which you should be addressing a superior officer, Doctor.”

He was right. The damn little bastard was right. You had to hand him that. He knew the rule book by heart. Probably slept with it. It was probably the only thing that would sleep with him. And that was only because the poor rule book didn’t have legs and so couldn’t move away under its own power. Come to think of it, though, Spock and the rule book probably deserved each other. Yes, sir, it was a match made in heaven. Or, wherever matches between strange, twisted couples like them were made. Yep, that’s the only thing that would have anything to do that green hobgoblin, that’s for sure. Nothing else sure as hell wouldn’t. Nothing sane and, thank goodness, human like me, for instance.

“Dr. McCoy, why do you have such a strange look on your face? You should be worried because you are being dressed down by your immediate superior.” 

Dressed down?! Damned little bastard can understand idioms when HE wants to use them! Sometimes, I think he’s only jerking my string. Nobody as smart as he is supposed to be can be that stupid about idioms.

“You should be concerned about your rank and commission, Doctor. But instead, your face is composed along quite different lines.”

“I don’t have a mirror, Mr. Spock. What kind of look is on my face, anyway?”

“One of satisfaction.”

“Well, then,” McCoy said leaning in to Spock for a moment. “Maybe I am satisfied. Did you ever think of that?” He straightened and moved away, back toward his microscopes. “Maybe I’m satisfied with myself, and life in general, and every little facet of what I’m doing. What do you think of that?” McCoy asked smugly.

“Frankly, I do not know what to think of it. Firstly, you do not answer when addressed. Secondly, you flaunt rules. After all, I am your superior.“

“Just in rank, Commander,“ McCoy noted in a tired, but pleased voice. “Just in rank.“

Spock pursed his lips, but quickly wiped the show of emotion away. “And thirdly, just now, you smiled in a most cryptic manner indeed.”

“Cryptic, eh?” McCoy asked with the same satisfied smile on his face. He leaned in to Spock’s personal space again. “And how would you know what a cryptic smile is? How can you possibly understand satisfaction?” He drew back again. “Why, you have no idea of what joy and satisfaction are.”

“And I suppose that you do?” Spock asked, taking the bait.

“Why, yes, I do.”

“And now I suppose that you are going to instruct me in how to put joy and satisfaction into my life,” Spock commented airily.

McCoy drew back. The damn condescending bastard was alive and well. Never lose track of that fact. The snake was always set to strike, at any sign of weakness.

“I would not presume to instruct you on anything, Mr. Spock. Far from it.”

“Even if I commanded you?” Spock asked haughtily.

“Especially, if you commanded me,” McCoy answered with a great deal of satisfaction. “There is no way that you could beat the answer out of me. Nothing could ever convince me to help you with something like that. Why, the task would be simply Herculean!”

“Even if I asked you?” Spock said quietly. “In a polite voice, as if I really wanted and needed your help? Would you be willing to help me then?”

For the first time that evening, McCoy was speechless. 

Spock turned aside. “Never mind. I see that I have asked the wrong person.“

“Wait!“ McCoy commanded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Spock. Stunned beyond reason, he said the first thing that popped into his head, because it was what he really wanted answered. “Why would you want my advice? Me, of all people! As you yourself have pointed out in barely disguised innuendo and statements so broad that even a blind man could see what you were meaning, it’s a miracle that I even manage to function reasonably well, let alone excel at anything.”

“I am sorry that I gave you that false impression, Doctor. You are well versed in your chosen profession of medicine.”

McCoy was taken aback. That had sounded almost nice. “Well, that was worth all the effort it’s taken to hear a statement like that. Getting a compliment from you is worse than pulling teeth.“ McCoy held up his hand. “Before you say anything, that means it’s difficult to get done,” he quickly amended before the idiom changed the Vulcan’s face into one huge question mark. McCoy didn’t want to get into a convoluted argument that would finally spiral out of control with him using idioms to explain idioms. It would result in an endless discussion, and Spock would still be puzzled. Well, actually, more so. And they both would have lost the thread of their original statements. The field would indeed be muddied.

No, Mr. Spock, we do not get any muddy fields on the Enterprise.

Give me strength.

“Dr. McCoy? Dr. McCoy?”

“Hmm?”

“Since you are not a dentist, Dr. McCoy, I find that statement not apropos to your thesis.”

Wow! The little bastard had danced around the ‘pulling teeth’ idiom nicely. Note to self: don’t use the ‘danced around’ idiom if you don’t want another endless discussion on your hands that leads nowhere.

“You’re probably right, Spock, but at this point we can use any insight to our current problem. We were both exposed to that pollen-like substance, and it’s hard telling what the effects on us will be, if any.” 

“You and I were the only ones who showed any kind of reaction at all, so the only conclusion is that the contaminant is not airborne. Since we were the only ones showered by the plant, it is best that we isolate ourselves from others so as not to expose them . We still might be carriers, even though we have taken the precaution of undergoing a rather thorough cleansing of our bodies.”

“I still do not understand, though, why Jim thought that you and I should monitor each other.”

“Perhaps we could not monitor ourselves judiciously. Or, if we were affected, we could see it quicker in each other.“ Spock pursed his lips. “I myself wish that we did not have to do this isolation together. I understand the Captain’s reasoning, but I wish that we could have isolated ourselves in our own individual quarters.”

“And not have the benefit of each others’ society? Spock, we‘re social animals! At least, I am. I even get tickled if I see a tiny, hard shelled bug wandering around my quarters where no bug should be wandering. I might even be known to peer down at it and inquire about its health. ‘Hello, there! How are you today?!’” McCoy was half in jest, half serious, his usual way of dealing with Spock. 

But the story about the bug was true. He had been, on occasion, so desperate for company that he had tried to converse with the bug passing through. He didn’t get much response. But he had always felt better. He had made the initial foray into friendship. He wasn’t responsible for the bug’s lack of response.

“Such need is quite pathetic on your part, Doctor.”

“That’s one man’s opinion,” McCoy muttered.

“But a most astute one, Doctor.”

Damn know-it-all! McCoy was having his fill of Spock. He was about to say that isolation would be preferable if the only company available was Spock, but even McCoy thought that sounded hurtful. So McCoy held his tongue. Surely, this isolation together wouldn’t last too much longer.

“Anyway, what was your problem awhile ago?” McCoy asked to change the subject. “What did you think I was neglecting to do?”

“I simply wondered if you were monitoring all of your indicators diligently.”

“Since they don’t change much or at a very fast rate, I’m thinking that I don’t have to have my eyes glued to them to notice any change.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Before you ask, let me amend that. I don’t have to watch the monitors every moment. The changes happen slowly. Their rate of change is comparable to that of, say, human hair growing or icebergs melting in the dead of winter.”

“It is highly important that the monitors be checked at all times,” Spock emphasized again like a stuck record.

“I know that. But if I stare at them any longer, I’m going to be cross eyed. Look, you and I were exposed to an unknown allergen. We have no idea how it will affect us, or even if it will. Outside of putting us in isolation, Jim chose to have us stay together and monitor each other. That‘s why we‘re here. That‘s what we‘re doing. So give it a rest, okay?”

“Precisely why we are here. But I do not believe that you are sufficiently monitoring me.”

“How come I feel like I’m riding a merry-go-round?“ McCoy muttered. He decided to try a different approach. “Well, what if I had the same doubts about you?! What If I think you are not monitoring me sufficiently?”

“But I have been monitoring you. Precisely and thoroughly.”

“If you have the audacity to say that you have been staring at those monitors all of this time without needing a distraction or going completely crazy--”

“No, what is driving me crazy is your lack of professional diligence on my behalf.”

Then get another doctor, McCoy wanted to yell so loudly that it would cause the Vulcan to blink and show some emotion. Anything. An eye flutter. An intake of breath. A sock to my jaw. A heated recitation from the rule book about my conduct toward a superior officer. Anything, anything at all. Let me know how out of line I am. You’ve told me before, but it’s been a whole five minutes. I might’ve forgotten some of it in that time. 

You think that my thought processes suffer because of an alarming slippage of my mental powers, so go ahead! Repeat yourself! Tell me how bad of an officer you think I am! How lacking I am in medical skills! How I barely rank above pond scum on the evolutionary ladder! I seriously doubt I‘ve forgotten how little you think of me on all levels, but don’t overestimate my limited intellect and intelligence. So, bring it on, you green-blooded son of a--

“Doctor?” 

Spock sounded puzzled. Well, McCoy could straighten him out on a few things!

Patience, patience, McCoy. Don’t prove the Vulcan correct. Be the bigger man here. You can do this. Just open your mouth and take a big bite of humble pie. Pretend it’s coming off the Vulcan’s ass, if need be. Grin, and appear agreeable. Just act like you’re contrite and humble, and happy to be that way. It’ll drive him crazy.

He doesn’t have to know that you’re actually thinking about chewing up his sinewy ass. It can’t have much flesh on it, though, just a bunch of hard strings that would be hard to chew. But there would be the satisfaction of making away with a chunk off one of those skinny haunches. He’d be crippled. Then, when he tried to walk, he would go in a circle instead of a straight line. And when he thought he was going to take off running, he would look like a whirling top, instead. Yes, sir! That might be a sight well worth the price of admission!

“Dr. McCoy, you are getting that strange look on your face again. I do not know what you are thinking, and it is alarming to me.”

You can do this, McCoy. Own the situation. The Vulcan can’t outfox you unless you let him.

McCoy cleared his face. “I am sorry if I have caused you concern, Mr. Spock. I will certainly try to do better in the future. Thank you for pointing out my faults.” There. That should stroke the ego of that little green bastard and get him off my ass!

Spock stared at McCoy, just flat out stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing or seeing.

McCoy frowned. “What?! What the hell are you looking at?! I know I didn‘t sprouts wings or grow a second nose! So, what?!”

Spock blinked, absolutely blinked, which was quite a show of emotion out of him. 

Maybe McCoy had sprouted wings or grown a second nose. If he had, McCoy was impressed with himself. But it turned out that he wasn‘t the only one in the room who was impressed. But it was by something else entirely.

“Dr. McCoy, that is fascinating. I do believe that we have just observed a unique phenomenon from you.”

“What the hell are you saying?! What phenomenon?!”

“Of course, it did not last long.” Spock commented with some disappointment.

“What?! What didn’t last long?!”

“Your being nice to me and treating me with understanding.”

“Oh.” McCoy felt sheepish. “Sorry. I should have done that quicker, huh? I just get worked up sometimes, you know, and speak before I think. I should try to improve on that, huh?”

“There it is. Back again. Fascinating. And to believe that an allergen is causing that reaction in you. Would it not be wonderful if we could isolate that allergen and use it as a medication for you?”

“No, Spock, listen. It isn‘t what you‘re thinking.”

“It is amazing. Simply amazing.”

“Look! It’s not an allergen!”

Spock looked deflated. “It is lost again.”

“It’s me!”

“Definitely lost.”

“Wait!”

“We had it, and then it just left again. I believe that I will call the phenomenon ‘The McCoy Misnomer’ because it produces a behavioral pattern quite opposite the norm in its victim.”

McCoy fought with himself. At this stage, he was his own best opponent, because the Vulcan had gone bat crap crazy.

McCoy breathed deeply. “Look. This is getting us nowhere.”

“I believe that it is affecting you positively again, Doctor. Now you are recognizing the logic of what I am saying. The rapidity of the change in your behavior is truly amazing. We must bottle this allergen, for certain.”

Give me strength, McCoy begged.

“That is strange indeed how the effects come and go, is it not, Doctor?”

Apparently, the allergen was bothering Spock’s thought processes, because, for McCoy, logic had seemed to have flown out the window.

Please, McCoy begged himself, if you want any sanity left, do not repeat THAT idiom to the Vulcan. You’ll be here until sometime next week trying to get untangled from the explanation that would entail. How would you explain how logic would suddenly and magically sprout wings and escape through the window like a freed nightingale?

“Well, Doctor, now we know how the allergen has affected you.”

How could McCoy fight a deduction like that?

“It appears that way, Mr. Spock.”

If you can’t fight them, join them, the old saying went. And McCoy was starting to appreciate the beauty, simplicity, and truth to that statement. It must have saved the originator a lot of hassle. Maybe he had a half Vulcan, half human plaguing the hell out of him in his life, too. But he doubted it. McCoy was the only one so privileged.

Spock almost allowed himself a half smile as he watched McCoy quietly thinking. Of course, what Spock accepted as quiet thinking was actually surrender on McCoy‘s part. But Spock didn‘t know that. 

“Ah, it is back! It is quite an improvement, I must say, Doctor.”

“It appears that way, Mr. Spock,” McCoy repeated with assurance. He would have to remember that saying. It seemed to cover quite a lot of Spock’s statements and left Spock with almost a pleasant look on his face.

“Well, we know how you have reacted, Doctor. Perhaps we will next learn how it affects me. And must I say that I hope that it will be only too soon. Staying all of this time with you has been quite trying on my patience.”

“You’re getting cranky. You are losing your patience. That’s how the allergen is affecting you.”

Spock glared. “That is not caused by the allergen, Doctor.”

“Oh.” McCoy knew that Spock did not mean that as harshly as it sounded, but it still stabbed McCoy. It still hurt. He’d tried to be friendly with Spock, but McCoy did not make friends as easily as Jim Kirk. Spock and Jim were thicker than thieves, and the only reason that Spock halfway tolerated McCoy’s presence on the best of days was because of Jim’s friendship with McCoy. 

McCoy knew it was impossible, but he wished that Spock would like him for himself. Hell, as long as he was wishing, he might as well wish big! He wished that Spock needed him. Now, that would take all of the fairy godmothers and all of the genies living in all of the magic bottles in the land of make believe to make that wish come true.

Spock frowned. “Did I hurt you just now, Doctor, by what I said?”

So, it had registered with Spock, after all. 

McCoy turned away. “I won’t lie. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“You have said similar things to me. How is it different because I said it instead of you? Do you believe that I am any less immune from being hurt by sharp and insensitive words?”

McCoy turned and frowned. “Why, Spock, I didn‘t know. I am sorry. I didn’t realize that some of the things I’ve said hurt you. You have always just given me a noncommittal look and turned away, as if it didn’t bother you anymore than if I had said it to an automobile or a vacuum cleaner.”

“That is hurtful, also, Doctor McCoy. It means that you find me insensitive.”

“You are correct again. And I am sorry again.”

“You do not realize how this affects me.”

“You’re right. I didn’t realize. You just need to say something so I‘ll know.”

“I was raised not to show hurt or pain. It is similar to an animal showing neither physical nor mental pain. It is a defensive mechanism in the face of a threat or an enemy.”

McCoy frowned. “Am I a threat to you? Do you think of me as the enemy?”

“Everyone is, except Jim Kirk.”

“Boy. Talk about being a pessimist! Most people operate under the assumption that most other people are good, unless they prove themselves otherwise. You start out with thinking the worst of everyone, and then they have to work like hell to come up to your exacting standards. Why do you think they would even want to do that? Who appointed you God, anyway?”

Spock looked down. “It is not what you are thinking. In fact, it is the exact opposite.”

“What? I’m not understanding.”

“I do not think I am superior,” Spock admitted, still looking down. “It is because I am so inferior to others.”

“Now, what makes you think that?”

“Because it is the truth. I am a half-breed. I feel the same way that the children of whites and native Americans felt in America. They, and I, am not good enough for either race.”

“I don’t know why the hell not! That’s just in your thinking, Spock! Why, I, I, I would take you over ten thousand other jerks I can think of!”

Spock looked up, amazed. “Why?”

“Because you’re my crew mate! My colleague! My, my friend! Why the hell do you think you aren’t?!”

“You never acted as if you were my friend.”

“You never wanted me for a friend!”

“I am sorry that I gave you that impression.”

“Well, you sure as hell did!” McCoy studied him. “What’s bringing this on?”

“Jim went on shore leave yesterday and left me behind.”

“Well, yeah. He deserved some free time.”

“The others. They all left, too.”

“Well, yeah.”

“But you stayed.”

“I had to! Because I got a damn gaudy flower to shower us with pollen! It wasn’t my idea to be stuck in here!”

“With me.”

“No! Not just with you. I would’ve been pissed off if I was here with Scotty, or Jim, or by myself! Even sweet Chekov couldn‘t have cheered me up!”

“So, it is not just because I am the one who is here with you?”

“It should be you who is mad at me! I got you in this mess! Why were you hanging so close to me, anyway, the other day?”

“I was watching out for you.”

“You were--” McCoy frowned. “Watching out for me?! Why?”

“Because I wanted to. I feel better when I know that you are protected.”

McCoy’s mouth dropped open. “You worry about me?”

“Is it alright that I do?”

“Well, yeah. Hell, yes! I mean, I’m honored. But, but, why?”

“Because I like you.”

McCoy felt himself go hot and cold. He felt his face and heartbeat reflect those radical changes. “I, I never realized--”

“I knew you did not.” Spock put his hands to his eyes and swayed. 

McCoy took Spock’s arm. “Here. Sit down over here on the bed. I think you’re exhausted.” He settled Spock down, then knelt beside him. “You have been monitoring me, haven’t you? Constantly, and not allowing yourself any rest, whatsoever. You‘ve been ten thousand times better than I have been.”

“I feel so naked,” Spock said from the depths of his hands.

“Hush. Hush. It’ll be alright,” McCoy soothed as he pulled Spock’s hands away from his face. The Vulcan did looked exhausted. “You need to rest for awhile.”

Spock sat hunched forward with his head bent. “No, the monitoring.”

“No, it’ll be alright. I’ll watch both of them.”

Spock relaxed. “I am so tired.”

“Of course, you are,” McCoy soothed. 

Spock looked up at McCoy. “Do not leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Jim left me.”

“I’m not Jim.”

“You have never been my friend before.”

“I am your friend now.”

“Why?”

“Because you need me.”

“I do not understand.”

“Don’t you get it? If you need me, then I feel needed. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I became a doctor. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to feel needed.” He took a chance. “By you. I‘ve wanted to feel needed. By you.” When he got no challenge for what he had just said, he smiled softly at Spock. “And now I do feel needed, so very much.”

“I am sorry that I never told you before. I did not know the words. But you have taught them to me. You, and the others on the Enterprise. Just by being nice. And fair. I never really knew that feeling before. Except from my mother. And I was taught not to duplicate her actions because she was an Earthling. It was behavior that should not be condoned on my planet. But here on the Enterprise, I can see that it is valued.” Tears sparkled in his eyes. “And now I value it, too. Very, very much.”

McCoy had wanted a sign of emotion out of Spock. Tears would do. Tears would do nicely.

He had to help Spock gain control of his emotions. It wasn’t good for Spock to express his emotions openly like this. That meant that Spock was losing some kind of battle with himself. McCoy had to help Spock regain control. Having Spock show emotions wasn’t as fulfilling as McCoy had always thought it would be. It wasn’t a victory, after all. Now, McCoy was simply frightened for Spock.

“Come on. Lie down. Get some rest.”

“It will be alright, Doctor?”

McCoy smiled. “Yes, it will be.” He helped Spock slide his body down so he was lying on the narrow bed.

“You sleep now, Spock. Everything will be alright now. And you’ll feel better when you wake up. I promise. And I‘ll be here when you wake up. I promise that, too.” He drew a blanket up over Spock and tucked it around his shoulders.

“Well, Doctor, now we know what my reaction to the plant allergen is, do we not?”

“Yes, Mr. Spock, we do.”

“You became nicer to me, and I exposed my emotions to you.”

“That’s right,” McCoy answered softly. He still had his hands on Spock’s shoulders to comfort him.

“Do you believe that when the allergen wears away from our systems, we will go back to our old selves?”

“I believe that we will, Mr. Spock, just as you do. Sad in a way, isn‘t it?”

“I also believe that we do not need to collect the allergen and distill it so we will be this new way whenever we wish, or when the other one wishes our behavior altered.”

McCoy grinned. “I believe that you’re right about that, too.”

“Good,” Spock mumbled with a half-smile, closed his eyes, and snuggled comfortably under the blanket. “I believe I would not like these new versions of us.”

McCoy’s grin deepened, but Spock couldn’t see it. But he could probably hear it in the warmth of McCoy‘s voice. “I wouldn’t either, Mr. Spock. I‘d miss our old selves. But these new versions are nice, too." An idea struck him. "Maybe we could have a little bit of both. What do you think of that idea?”

“That would be good,” Spock mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep. “I will slumber now. And dream of showers. Heavenly showers of gold.” He turned his head, nestled his face into McCoy’s hand, and mumbled so McCoy had to strain to hear him, “And heavenly showers with you.” Then he went to sleep.

McCoy sat stunned and stared at the Vulcan cradled in his hand.

What the hell?! You wake up and explain yourself, Spock!

And then, as if he had heard him, Spock opened his sleepy eyes.

“You will be here, Doctor?”

“I said that I would be.”

“I fear I will be alone when I awaken.”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I‘ll be right over there, monitoring our tests, just like I said I would be.”

“No. Here.” Spock opened the covers. “With me.”

McCoy stared, bug-eyed.

“There is room, Doctor. With me.”

McCoy recovered. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, darlin.’ I’ll watch you first. I want to do that for awhile and let you rest.”

Spock's grin was almost shy. "Darlin?'"

"That's right. Best of the both. Remember?"

"Yes, I do. Leonard. If I may call you that?"

"Anything," McCoy said in a rush. "Just so you call me."

That seemed to satisfy Spock. With a smile, he went back to sleep

McCoy didn’t know if Spock actually thought he was displaying a reaction to the flower’s pollen, or if he was using it as an opportunity to reveal himself more to McCoy. Whichever way it was really didn’t matter. The important thing was that McCoy suddenly felt closer to Spock, and he hoped that the Vulcan felt closer to him.

McCoy sat for a long time and watched him. The sleeping Vulcan fascinated the hell out of him! And for good reason.

Spock needed him! He needed Leonard McCoy! And McCoy could not get over that fact. 

At last, McCoy stood, studied the monitors for their tests, then returned to the narrow bed to slide under the covers with Spock. There was just room for the two skinny men. A perfect fit!

The Vulcan didn’t awaken, but realized that McCoy was with him anyway and smiled.

“Just me, darlin,’” McCoy murmured. “But I think you know that.”

Spock pulled his arms around McCoy, cuddled the good doctor against himself, and sighed in contentment. Their spooned bodies fit together as nicely as two soup spoons lying in a drawer together.

They might awaken the next morning with the allergen out of their systems and arguing again. Hopefully, though, they could keep the best of the both for a long time.

But whatever happened, they would always have this one sacred night when they would sleep in each other’s arms.

Or the allergen might still be with them in the morning, and they could take another golden shower together. This time, though, they would not be having to wash pollen off each other. But McCoy was certain they could find something to do in the shower together beside bathing.

And, it might just be that the pollen hadn’t affected them at all. Or not nearly as much as spending time isolated together and having to talk everything out. If that was the case, there would be a lot of golden showers in their futures! And sleeping together on a narrow bed so that they had to snuggle closely together.

That Jim Kirk and his matchmaking tendencies! McCoy wondered if Jim Kirk had made that up about allergens and having to be isolated together. The kid was quick. McCoy could see Kirk doing something like that. If Kirk did, McCoy blessed him for doing it.

McCoy smiled and snuggled against his sleeping Vulcan. He had joy and satisfaction in his life again. And even if Spock asked him instead of commanded him, McCoy could not explain how or why.

He just did.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing dealing with Star Trek, including story lines and/or characters.  
> I own nothing of the movie "Goldfinger," nor do I represent any of the cast or crew.


End file.
